


Punch-Drunk

by brookebond



Series: Inceptiversary 2017 [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur is only 17, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Eames is really a gentleman, M/M, Underage Drinking, but no one does drugs, but there's no actual hanky panky, drug dealer!Eames, so sort of underage, they get drunk, twink!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 15:12:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11489004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Ariadne drags Arthur to a party and things get a little out of control until a stranger helps out.





	Punch-Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Rescue From Danger square Kink/Trope Bingo Card. I think it works.

Maybe if he had thought about it more, Arthur would have fought Ariadne more. If he had actually listened to the address she gave him, there was no way in hell Arthur would have been standing on the front lawn of a house that had seen better days.

Thumping music roared from the open door, reminding Arthur that he never went to these sorts of things. He wasn’t much of a people person, preferring to stay home and party with his friends. Big parties were intimidating. There was always a multitude of people with expectations. Arthur was expected to be polite, make new friends, drink, dance… the list was exhausting and Arthur was almost always tired before he even got to the party.

“Come on,” Ariadne huffed, tugging on Arthur’s hand to lead him into the house.

He tried not to resist but his sensibilities screamed at him. He needed to get out of there because this was begging—screaming even—to be broken up by the cops and Arthur had no interest in being involved with that bullshit. His parents had no idea where he was and he sure as shit didn’t want to have to call them from jail.

Inside the house, people were pressed against one another, bodies writing to the bass heavy music. There was barely any room to move and Arthur couldn’t think, couldn’t hear Ariadne but he allowed her to guide him through the house. They ended up in the kitchen where a group of kids with way too many piercings were doing shots. Arthur shook his head, declining whatever they were drink in favour of the red cup Ariadne pressed into his hand.

Ariadne mimed downing his drink and pointed back where they had come from. Apparently she wanted to dance.

Arthur took a gulp of his drink, wincing as the alcohol burned on its way down. Vodka. She had given him what looked like half a cup of straight vodka. He was so fucked.

He held onto the cup, taking small sips as he followed Ariadne to what had been deemed the dancing room. There was barely any room to move and Arthur was sweating from being in there for all of a few seconds.

Ariadne twisted her fingers in the front of his shirt, adding another hole to the others and pulling him down so she could shout in his ear. “Loosen up, Arthur.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Since meeting Ariadne in his freshman year, that was all he had ever heard her say to him. Apparently he wasn’t _fun_ enough but Ariadne had still stuck by his side all the same. He supposed, since they were celebrating the start of their senior year, he could afford to let loose for one night.

He downed the rest of the cup, regretting the decision as the vodka burned the whole way down. “Oh fuck,” he muttered, crushing the cup and dropping it so it could become another of the many littering the floor of the house. He mentally apologised to whomever had to clean up the mess but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The alcohol was warming him, loosening him up already, and when Ariadne moved forward, grabbing his hips, Arthur went without a fight.

Ariadne smiled as he wrapped his arms around her neck and pulled her close.

They danced that way, pressed against one another, for several songs. Arthur lost track as each piece of music blended into the next, but eventually Ariadne called that she was going to get more drinks and Arthur barely noticed her leave.

Bodies filled the space Ariadne had vacated and Arthur went with them, allowing the press of the group to move him to the beat of the music.

At some point, he took his shirt off, but Arthur couldn’t remember doing it. He was only vaguely aware that he’d lost it when someone’s hands slid over his stomach and pulled him back. A soft groan escaped, swallowed by the music as he pressed against a decidedly male crotch.

He’d never actually danced with another guy before but the experience was surprisingly freeing. Though, that also could have been the vodka that was making him light-headed. Arthur found that he didn’t care, not when the guy’s hands started to roam over his chest. Vaguely he knew he should have been keeping track of who was in the room so nothing got back to his parents, but the thought flittered right out of his head as the guy bit down on his earlobe.

Arthur opened his eyes, wondering when he had closed them, when someone tapped on his chest. His gaze caught on Ariadne smirking up at him and he couldn’t stop the blush that crept up on him. He was grateful that he knew he was already flushed from all the dancing and extra bodies surrounding them. He made out her mouthing the words “be careful” at him with a smirk and he nodded at her, hardly caring about being careful about anything with a talented mouth going to town on his neck.

Ariadne patted him on the chest, a knowing smirk on her face as she walked away, leaving Arthur and whoever was plastered to his back.

The beat shifted, slowing into a more steady, heavy beat that pulsed through Arthur’s body. The guy behind him gripped Arthur’s hips and pulled him back, crushing their bodies together brutally. Arthur could feel the erection pressing into his backside and he ground back, savouring the way the guy gasped against his neck.

“Cheeky,” he purred into Arthur’s ear.

Now Arthur could understand what he’d been missing when he spent all those weekends holed up in his bedroom doing homework. The warm feeling coursing through him was pleasant, making him feel powerful in a way he’d never been before. It was heady and went straight to his head faster than the alcohol did.

He was dizzy from the combination of lust, alcohol, and overwhelming press of bodies against him. But it felt good to let go, to forget about everything else. All his responsibilities seemed miniscule in the face of having a good day.

Arthur slipped his hands back, gripping the guy’s hips as they moved together, his lips sliding over Arthur’s neck.

As they danced, Arthur tried to spot Ariadne, cursing her tiny height when he found it impossible to spot her in the crowd. In his search, he did manage to spot several cute guys but he kept returning to the same spot. Someone in a slightly darker part of the room was watching Arthur dancing with the stranger. It wasn’t just casual looking though, Arthur could feel the way the guy’s eyes were boring into him as though they were a physical presence. Occasionally someone would go up to the guy and his gaze would—reluctantly—drop away from Arthur but whenever he was alone, he would find Arthur in the crowd again.

Arthur tried to place the guy, tried to figure if he knew him from somewhere but the alcohol had clouded his mind and he couldn’t think much past what the stranger he was dancing with was doing with his tongue. Somehow Arthur managed to lock eyes with the stranger at the same moment the guy grinding into his arse sucked a bruise into his neck. He could feel the slight tingle of blood rushing to the skin and it was so much hotter knowing that a ridiculously attractive person was watching it all happen.

He should have been creeped out, should have been worried about the stranger that was watching him, but Arthur couldn’t think about anything other than how hot he was starting to get. He was sweating even with his shirt off and he knew he had to get out of the house before he fainted. Not eating anything before heading to the party had been a mistake.

The stranger was easy enough to wriggle free from and Arthur soon found himself outside, the fresh air clearing his head slightly. He walked around the house where there were fewer people and leaned against the wall, sucking in a harsh breath at the sudden cold against his overheated skin. There was a light drizzle but Arthur found that he didn’t care. It was refreshing and a welcome change from the sweaty mess he had become.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had ever let himself go like that, dancing with a stranger in such a wanton way. He wasn’t sure he had ever done that before. But the guy had been too pretty to pass up. He smiled, remember the way those lips had pressed to his neck, sucking a bruise into his skin in the middle of the dance floor.

“There you are,” a warm voice said as a body pressed against the length of his. “I was worried I’d scared you off.”

Arthur hummed, wrapping his arms around the newcomer. “I needed air. Too hot.”

“Definitely cooler out here,” the stranger said, nuzzling his face into Arthur’s neck. “Quieter as well. I like how you think.”

“I need to find Ari,” Arthur mumbled, shoving at the guy’s shoulders so he could get free.

“You’re right where you need to be,” was the response just before the guy kissed his way up Arthur’s neck and to his lips.

The kiss was the worst experience of Arthur’s life and he had kissed Olivia Stone in the 4th grade. Not his finest moment but he was pretty damn sure Olivia was a better kisser back then than the guy he was currently making out with was. Teeth bit his lip, a tongue pushed insistently into his mouth, and Arthur felt sick.

He groaned, pushing the guy’s shoulders again but apparently he only took the noise as a sign that he should keep going. His hands slid down Arthur’s bare torso and Arthur wriggled, hoping his smaller size would make it easier to slip free. It still didn’t make any difference, though.

The guy started to undo Arthur’s pants, tugging them down a little before a sudden breeze hit Arthur’s chest. He shivered, eyes snapping open. It took a while to comprehend what he was seeing, but when it all clicked, Arthur shivered for a totally different reason. Someone had pulled the stranger off him and was now pummelling them into the ground.

“You fucking nonce.”

Arthur could make out more muttered obscenities as the sounds of a fist meeting bone filled the air around him. It wasn’t like anything he had ever heard before and Arthur couldn’t stand it. He actually preferred the whimpering from the guy on the ground.

“Stop,” Arthur said, his voice a little unsure. “Stop,” he repeated louder which earned him a look from the guy doing the beating. Arthur recognised him, it was the same guy from inside. The one that had been watching him dance.

“It’s you,” Arthur blurted out, wide-eyed as he watched the guy straighten and shake out his hands.

“You right?”

“What’s your name?” Arthur asked, ignoring the question.

“Eames. Are you alright?” he asked again.

Arthur rolled his eyes and nodded.

“You gonna do up your trousers then?” Eames asked, pointing at Arthur’s gaping fly.

Arthur quickly zipped himself up, adjusting his jeans so they sat a little higher on his hips than he usually wore them. “I didn’t realise,” he muttered.

The rain began to fall heavier, the drops fat and heavy as they landed on his face. It was refreshing and Arthur could feel his mind clearing as the water flowed over him.

“You came with someone, yeah?”

Arthur opened his eyes, drops of water flicking off his eyelashes with the movement. “Ariadne,” he said, just remembering her. “I lost her in…” He waved a hand, gesturing back inside vaguely. He had no real idea what happened to her or if she was still at the party.

“Here,” Eames said as he wrapped something around Arthur’s shoulders.

It took much longer than he would have liked to admit to realise it was a jacket but when he looked over at Eames, he saw the white t-shirt he was wearing becoming see-through. Arthur had heard about wet t-shirt contests before and he had never seen the appeal, but with swirls of dark ink appearing beneath the wet material, Arthur had to reconsider his entire idea of the things.

“Let’s find your friend,” Eames said with a gentle push on Arthur’s shoulders.

Arthur looked down at the guy on the ground who was still whimpering and clutching his face. A pang of something shot through him and, while he was certain it wasn’t guilt, Arthur did feel a little bad that he had been the cause of it all.

“Don’t worry about him, he had it coming,” Eames muttered.

There’s nothing Arthur could do for the guy anyway, not that he wanted to, so he lets Eames guide him back towards the front of the house. He’s aware that he’s walking too closely to Eames, but he hasn’t removed his arm from around Arthur’s shoulders and Arthur kind of liked it. There was a solidity to that arm that Arthur really enjoyed. He wasn’t about to ruin that because his brain was saying that something was wrong with the guy.

Right at that moment, his brain reminded him of what he had seen while he was inside; images of people walking up to Eames then shuffling off in the opposite direction after a brief conversation.

“Are you a dealer?” he blurted out, his mouth moving faster than his brain.

Eames stopped walking, hand gripping Arthur a little tighter so he had to stop as well.

“Uh—”

“Arthur!” Ariadne yelled and barrelled towards him, colliding into his middle and wrapping her arms around him tightly. “What the hell happened? You were in there with that guy and then next thing I know, you were gone. Who’s this?” She spoke a mile a minute, her words faster than Arthur could keep up with but he managed to catch the last question and looked over at his helper.

“Eames.”

“What’s an Eames?”

“Him,” Arthur said with a shrug. He really didn’t have a better answer for her and if he did, Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted to elaborate. As much as he knew, Eames was a dealer of some sort and Ariadne didn’t need to know about that.

“This is your friend then?” Eames asked, pointing in her direction.

If Arthur knew him better, he would have sworn that Eames seemed relieved to have been interrupted. Arthur was going to file that away for later along with continuing the conversation Ariadne had interrupted.

“Yeah, tiny child that she is,” Arthur teased, rubbing her head roughly.

“Watch it. I can still kick you in the nuts, Arthur. Don’t forget about Lucy’s party.”

Arthur groaned. “Honestly. You beat me once. Are you ever going to get a better story?”

“As wonderful as this banter is, darling. Do you think we could do it somewhere a little less… wet?” Eames asked, raising a brow at Arthur when he looked over.

“Oh… yeah.”

“Come on, I’ll give you a lift home,” Eames said, waving for both Ariadne and Arthur to follow.

Ariadne looked up at Arthur and he shrugged, frowning and trailing after Eames.

“Who is this guy?” she hissed at Arthur.

“He’s Eames,” Arthur repeated, hoping she would just give up. He was too drunk and tired to deal with whatever interrogation she wanted to start. “Let’s just go back to mine and we can talk there, okay?”

She nodded, dropping the subject surprisingly fast. Arthur frowned at his friend, wondering what had happened and why she was so ready to give up on asking him a million questions. It wasn’t like her at all.

“Alright, who wants to ride shotgun?” Eames asked, opening the passenger door for them.

“Him,” Ariadne said, shoving a thumb in his direction as she climbed into the backseat.

“Oh… um…” Arthur stammered, tightening the jacket around him a little.

“In you pop, darling,” Eames said with a grin, leaning his chin against the door.

Arthur shouldn’t have found the smile endearing, shouldn’t have wondered what it would be like to have those crooked teeth digging into his lips. He really shouldn’t have and he tried to subtly adjust himself before Eames climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Where to?”

Arthur rattled off his address without a second thought. His parents were out of town for the weekend and Ariadne was staying over so he wouldn’t be alone. It was a thing they did every time Arthur’s parents went away—and it happened frequently.

“Buckle up then,” Eames said, punctuating the command with the click of his own seatbelt.

Arthur rolled his eyes but complied, making more of a show of doing his seatbelt up so Eames would hurry the fuck up. Even with the jacket on—and the lingering warmth—Arthur was starting to shiver.

“You didn’t want to stay?” Arthur asked vaguely, hoping talking would help him warm up a little.

“Ran out of stock,” he replied with a shrug.

Well that sort of answered his earlier question. Arthur wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. Eames was attractive, from what he’d been able to glean, and had helped him out with whatever that guy had been planning on doing. So clearly being a dealer was just one bad trait out of many good ones.

“You cold?” Eames asked as he leaned over and turned the heat on full force.

Silence fell over the car, the quiet music from the radio the only noise but Arthur couldn’t make out any words or what the song was. It frustrated him, though, because it was familiar enough to nag at the back of his mind as though he should have remembered it.

He was ready to ask what it was when the car stopped, the engine cutting off.

“Your friend’s asleep,” Eames said, pointing over his shoulder at Ariadne lying on the back seat.

Arthur sighed softly and undid his belt then leaned over the centre console to poke her awake.

She mumbled sleepily and tried to press her face further into the seat.

“Up you get,” Arthur muttered. “You go inside, I’ll be there in a few.” He held the keys in her face, jingling them as an incentive.

Ariadne muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “you’re a twat, Arthur” and climbed out of the car without any further complaints.

Once the door was closed, Arthur turned back to face Eames. He was already watching Arthur, though, his plush lips pursed in a tiny smile. Arthur smiled back and held out his hand. “Phone, please.”

Eames frowned but handed his mobile over without questioning Arthur’s intentions.

Arthur entered his number into Eames’ phone then closed the app and locked it before Eames could see what he’d done. He grabbed Eames’ hand and pressed the phone into it before leaning over and pressing a kiss to Eames’ cheek.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said quickly and hopped out of the car before Eames could reply. He ran the short distance to his house, closing the door without looking back. He peeked through the small frosted glass window so he could watch as Eames drove away.

Arthur climbed the stairs to his bedroom and found Ariadne passed out on top of the comforter already. He was going to have to give her a hard time for being such a lightweight. It was only three in the morning, usually she made it to at least four. He wondered what was different that night.

He methodically set about changing into his pyjamas—a pair of sweats and t-shirt—and as he was climbing into bed, his phone started to buzz violently on the nightstand. He glanced over at Ariadne, making sure she was still asleep at his side before he picked it up, frowning at the number.

“Hello,” he answered with a yawn.

“Arthur,” a warm voice purred. “I believe you still have my jacket.”


End file.
